I Do Believe In Fairies
by ForeverInUrArms
Summary: [AU] I don't believe is magic. I don't believe in pirates, Indians, ticking crocodiles, fairies, or boys who can fly. I don't believe in any of it, because my mother told me not to.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:It's BAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKK! Sorry I got rid of it... You get the idea. Love you guys and I haven't written anything for this one in ages, so bear with me. Love ya!**

_Chapter One_

I don't believe in magic. I don't believe in pirates, Indians, ticking crocodiles, fairies, or boys who can fly. I don't believe in any of it, because my mother told me not to.

But that all changed the summer I turned thirteen.

My father is a playwright. A rather famous one, if it comes to that. He writes very spectacular plays, the audience loves them, and he gets paid extra for the play.

We live in a rather lovely house with two serving maids, Sarah and Emma, along with my father's Newfoundland, Porthos. I loved Porthos…he took care of me as a child and he still watches out for me to this day.

My name is Wendy Barrie, and I am the only child of James and Marian Barrie.

I guess you could say I loved my life. I had a home, I had a mother and a father, I was wealthy, I had the greatest dog in all of London, and I just turned thirteen.

But, there's just one tiny problem. Mother told me that I had to experience falling in love at least once the summer I turn thirteen.

Well, tonight was the opening night of Father's new play, Little Mary, and I was to go backstage with him and watch from there.

You see, I loved my father more than anything…it's just…I didn't know how to believe. I wanted to believe…just once.

I wanted to see what my father saw…that was all I truly wanted. And my father agreed.

He was to teach me how to believe and find me someone that I can possibly fall in love with as my thirteenth birthday present.

Since tonight was a special occasion, I was dressed in my favorite sky blue skirt and white shirt. For most of my life, I have dressed much like the young women who…well, they aren't as wealthy as my family. I liked their style much better than the ones that my mother tried to force me into wearing. Mother despised it…I could tell.

"Father? Why are you bouncing on your heels like that?" I was watching my father bounce upon his heels, which was something he usually didn't do as much he was doing now before a play…then again, I have never seen him backstage.

And it was rather annoying, come to think of it.

"Wendy, you must keep quiet. The audience can still hear you back here, and if you are too loud, they may become distracted and not see the start of the play. And I am a bit nervous about this play…I don't know how it will go over with the audience."

"Oh…why do you think that, Father?"

As I said this, a young usher walked past my father and turned to him, muttering something that my father did not understand right away.

"Excuse me?" Father turned to the young man.

"Wonderful audience tonight, Mr. Barrie, sir."

"They hate it." I didn't notice, but within the last few minutes of watching Father bounce on his heels and speaking to him about his nervousness, the play had begun.

"What?"

"It's like a dentist's office out there. Why?"

As the two of them bantered back and forth, I carefully tiptoed over to the soft red curtains and, after rubbing my face into them, peeked out. He spoke truth. People were yawning, one old gentleman was sound asleep, and others chatted amongst themselves.

I began to listen to my father's conversation with the usher as I watched the audience.

"It's bull's pizzle, Mr. Barrie."

I turned to face the two men, addressing my father directly. "Father…is the play that horrible?"

"Well…no one enjoys it!"

The usher left in a real fluster. I felt terribly for him. If I was in that kind of situation and I was critiquing one of Father's plays, I would leave in a worse fluster than he did! I hated confrontations…they scared me to death.

"Father…shall we leave?" I smoothed out a few wrinkles in my dress as I spoke, something that was out of habit…Mother always told me my dress was wrinkly…but I just think she didn't like it.

"No…let's just wait this out. Perhaps the audience will like Act Two," Father walked over to the curtains and peered out for a few moments, and I could tell he was in his make-believe world once more. After a few moments, he turned back to me and whispered, "And stop acting like your mother, Wendy. You are with me…no more of this lady-like attitude, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Father." It's all I've ever known for my entire thirteen years of living! How could he make me change in a split second?

In truth, it turned out that he would be able to change me…in more ways than I ever thought possible.

**A/N: So…how was it? Total crap, or totally awesome? I tried to keep the word choice faithful to the movie, but if I wasn't perfect, don't shoot me, please? And if you liked it…please leave a review! I love reviews…**


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

"Absolute rubbish from start to finish. It was the worst I've seen in a long time," I overheard a man dressed much like Father speaking to Charles about the play.

I guess it really was that terrible then…poor Father.

"Well, I deeply apologize, sir." Charles bowed to the man.

That was Father's cue.

"I'll charm them next time, Charles," Father walked past the men with me trailing behind him like a pompous guard dog.

"I know you will, James," Charles noticed me hiding behind my father, scared to death of the older gentlemen. "Hello Wendy, darling."

I turned to him, becoming the lady-like girl that I am and curtsying very properly. "Good evening, Charles."

"My, my, James. Your daughter has such lovely manners!"

"Thank you, Charles," Father tipped his hat, then he turned to me. "Come along, Wendy. We mustn't keep the people waiting much longer." He said this to me in a rather bored tone of voice. I could tell he wasn't excited about this…

Neither was I, when it comes to that.

One thing I must mention to you. I absolutely despise my name. What were my mother and father thinking when they named me Wendy? I just don't understand it…

"Coming, Father." I hurried to his side, noticing Mother standing out in the crowd, chatting with Mr. And Mrs. Snow.

Father had become immersed in conversation, so I carefully removed my sewing from the pocket of my skirt, found a comfortable spot to sit, and began to work.

I know Father hates it when I sew…he says it's too lady-like. But I'm making something for him this time. Something that he may be able to use for his next play….

It is a picture of a young boy and girl floating above the trees kissing. So, you see…I was starting to believe…

Then again, I have been reading over Father's shoulder when he wrote. There's a page devoted to a boy and a girl floating above the trees…he put a side note that they were possibly kissing as well, but that was just side notes.

But, since I was supposed to be thinking about love, I decided to add the kissing bit. It adds the romance to this really beautiful, peaceful scene.

I looked up for a moment to see my mother standing over me. Getting to my feet rather quickly, I dusted my skirt and curtsied. "Hello, Mother."

"Hello, Wendy. I see you are working on your sewing skills. Does you father know you are sewing?"

"No, not exactly. He really doesn't…"

"Agree with me forcing you to sew all the time…you have made some lovely things in your lifetime, though, if I must say so myself."

I nodded, being respectful. "Thank you, Mother."

"You are quite welcome, dear. Now, we had better get your father and get going home."

I tucked a lock of my long, auburn hair behind my ear, curtsying once more. "Yes, Mother."

My mother nodded to me, then she went over to my father and tapped him on the shoulder. "James. It's time to get going, dear."

My father turned and saw me holding my sewing materials. "Wendy! I told you not to sew! Why don't you ever listen to me?"

"Because this time I am making something for you, Father."

Father looked at me with an expression of pure confusion, but he shook it off. "We'll talk about this later."

I curtsied to Mr. And Mrs. Snow, then I ran off to catch up with my family.

Personally, I didn't really want to leave just yet…there was someone there who I wanted to talk to…

But that's nothing of importance. He was just a figure in the crowd…

Someone who I would see again in a very short time, in fact.

**A/N: WOW! You guys actually liked this one! Really? I am touched. Well, I really hope you enjoy the next few chapters…I'll be writing a lot now! Yay! Leave me a few more nice reviews, okay? **


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

The sun shined in through my window that morning, making me blink very rapidly. I turned over, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Porthos was lying beside me, which was a rarity, because he usually slept with Father or downstairs with the housemaids.

"Good morning, Porthos." I scratched him behind the ears, grinning.

I suddenly heard a knock on my door. "Wendy?"

"Yes, Father?" I began to get dressed.

"We're going to the park. Get dressed quickly, dear. I have some work to get done and I want to see your picture you are sewing me."

"I'll bring it with me." I pulled it out from my skirt from last night, finishing buttoning the last button on my white shirt.

After carefully braiding two plaits in my hair, I smoothed out my pale pink skirt and walked out of my room, Porthos following me.

"Good morning, Wendy."

"Good morning, Father."

"Are you ready to get going to the park?" He was holding a fishing rod, which was rather curious. I had never gone to the park with him before, however, but I was always awake to say goodbye to him.

It was going to be an interesting day with my father…I knew that for certain.

"Yes, I am definitely ready to go to the park. I have not been able to get sunshine in days."

Father smiled. "That's my Wendy. Now, get your sweater and let's go."

I walked along the street, taking in every new scent, new sight, and every new sensation hitting my face. The wind was something of a mystery to me…I usually didn't go outside, and I only could tell what the weather was like if I opened my window and let the wind blow in. But today, the wind was very light, gently blowing upon my face. It felt like Porthos breathing on me in the morning if I didn't wake up to take him outside to play.

"Are you having fun back there, Wendy?" Father grinned.

"Oh yes, lots of fun. I love the park…"

"You've never really been to the park much…you should come with me more often." Father threw out the line, Porthos chasing after it. "That a boy. Get it! Come on! Good boy! Now bring it back!"

I loved watching Father play with Porthos. He was so gentle with him, as if he was his own child…as if he was the son he never had.

"Father? May I throw the line out for Porthos?"

He nodded, handing the fishing rod to me. I reeled it in, watching Porthos follow it. I then threw it back over my shoulder and brought it forward, the ball on the end flying out in front of me.

Porthos ran for the ball, making me grin. "Get it! Go on, Porthos! You can do it, boy!"

Father stood behind me, watching me play with his dog. Unbeknownst to me, Father was seeing me as a young girl, surrounded by fairies and spinning around, looking at them in amazement.

After awhile, Father called to me and we began to walk again, Porthos walking at Father's side. He was so protective of Father…I was surprised by the next event.

"Father…don't you have writing to get to?"

"Wendy… do you see someone you know?"

I blushed slightly. "I see someone I saw the other day at the play…'tis all."

"I see. Well, I'll let you get to know this young gentlemen."

"No!" I was very shy on my own with boys. "Can I…can I work on my picture for you? I won't bother your work…"

"Yes. I would like to see this picture." Father sat down on a forest green bench, pulling out his notebook and his fountain pen. I wished I had a pen just like Father's every time I saw it.

I carefully took out my picture, my thread, and my needles and began to work. Father watched me for a few moments, admiring my work. "Have you been reading over my shoulder?"

"No, no…not at all. I just heard you talking about this scene to yourself and decided that it would be a very nice picture to sew into fabric, so I sketched it out, drew it on here, and now I'm just adding the color."

"It's very beautiful. I don't want to ruin your concentration, so I'll just read the news." He opened up the newspaper, seeing that the place where the reviews were for his play was cut out.

I'm afraid I am the criminal this time. I saw that it was a horrible review for the play, so I got up late at night and cut it out myself. Emma saw me do this, but she kept her mouth shut.

Father was looking through the hole at a woman who was petting Porthos. The look in his eyes told me everything.

Father thought she was beautiful.

"Wendy…is that the young gentlemen whom you saw?" He pointed at a young man with mud brown hair and dark brown eyes. The very same boy I saw at the play.

"Yes. I think he was there with that woman there." I pointed to the young woman Father thought was beautiful.

"I think that's his mother." He leaned forward, trying to listen and hear what they were saying.

Suddenly, a little voice muttered. "Excuse me sir, you're standing on my sleeve."

Father and I looked down to see a little boy with sandy blond hair and big brown eyes lying beneath the bench. "Am I? So sorry. I might point out that you're lying under my bench."

I giggled. I loved when Father played with me.

"I have to, I'm afraid. I've been put in the dungeon by the evil Prince George. I'm sorry if it bothers you."

I loved this little boy already…he was so cute. And he spoke so properly for being so young.

"Well, if you're trapped in the dungeon, then there's nothing much I can do to help you. Perhaps I can slide you a key through the bars."

"I wouldn't risk it, sir. The evil Prince George has captured many men."

Father looked at me, grinning. "Well, is there much I can do then?"

"No. There's really nothing left for you to do."

Just then, a young man ran up. "I'm sorry, is he bothering you sir? My brother can be an extremely irritating sort of person."

Father looked up. "Ah ha, Prince George, I gather? I understand that you have imprisoned this unfortunate brute."

"Not horrible really? But a fair bother yes. Kind, and tolerable."

"Then what precisely is...er…what did you say your name was?"

"Michael."

"What precisely is Michael's crime?"

George grinned. "He's my younger brother."

Father nodded. "Ah. Sorry lad. I can't free you."

Michael's little voice said back, "That's all right."

Just then, my Prince Charming…ah…the young man I saw at the play, ran up with Porthos. "D-Do you mind us playing with your dog?"

Father shook his head in reply, cueing me to get to my feet. "May I come with you?"

George told Father. "This is Jack, second in line to the throne."

I turned to Jack. "Hello. I'm Wendy Barrie."

Jack bowed. "Jack Llewelyn Davies. Nice to meet you, Wendy."

I blushed slightly. "Nice to meet you too, Jack."

"Do you…wish to join us?"

I nodded, smiling once more. And with that, the two of us walked off together to play with Porthos.

**A/N: I'm sorry! I've been so awful in updating this and all my other stories…I'm going to be like writing like an insane person…I'll have to go get all my cds and start writing again! Please don't fail me with your nice reviews…AHH! I have so much to write! All right guys, enough here from me. Talk to you later!**


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